


Letters Home

by NotesFromSarah



Series: Before the Time of Zorro [3]
Category: Zorro (TV 1957)
Genre: Back to School, Canon Compliant, College, Disney's Zorro, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Homesickness, Introspection, Letters, Semi-Epistolary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25995421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotesFromSarah/pseuds/NotesFromSarah
Summary: During his time in university Diego wrote many letters to his father. It is the first time they have lived so far apart and the separation isn’t easy for either of them. Their letters provide each other only a glimpse of their new lives and as the years pass their relationship grows in new directions. Disney’s Zorro. Canon compliant.
Relationships: Alejandro de la Vega & Diego de la Vega
Series: Before the Time of Zorro [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886794
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	1. YEAR 1, 1817-1818

_June 2 nd, 1817_

_Dear Papá,_

_I hope you are well and not missing me too much. I made it to Barcelona yesterday and am now at the home of Tía Ignacia and Tío Benjamín. Tía and Tío send their love as do cousins Imelda, Marta, Carlos, Mateo and Jacinta. All of the cousins are in good health and quite big. It seems only yesterday that we received word of Jacinta’s birth and she is already walking and talking most admirably._

_Barcelona is huge, I would even say that it is bigger than Mexico City. Not only that but there are people here from every part of the world, people of every race and creed. It is an education just to walk the streets of the city and look at the people. I think I will like it here very much._

_Tomorrow Tío Benjamín will travel with me to Madrid and help me enroll at the university. I will send you the address at which to write me once I know it, otherwise you can send letters here._

_I miss you and hope you are well._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_

Diego put aside his pen and shook sand on the ink so it would dry faster. He had so much to tell his father but it was hard to put it into words. He carefully folded, sealed and addressed the note. He was a bit reluctant to even write about some of what he had experienced. The voyage had been good, but they had encountered a terrible storm in the third week of the voyage, he was dying to tell his father all about it, but also concerned that the news would cause him no small amount of worry.

“Dieguito!”

Diego smiled, hearing the voice of his young cousin Carlos.

 _“Sí,_ Carlito?”

Carlos appeared in the doorway of his room. “Mateo and I are going to play, do you want to come with us?”

Diego could see the anticipation in the young boy’s eyes. He grinned. “Of course I do, let’s go at once.”

* * *

_August 10 th, 1817_

_My dear son,_

_I am relieved that you have made it safely to your aunt and uncle’s home. I know that by now you will be living in Madrid and will be starting your classes very soon. By the time you get this letter your lectures will be well underway. I encourage you to study diligently and not become distracted by all the sights of the city. I hope you avail yourself of the cultural resources at hand and take advantage of the museums while you are there._

_The hacienda is very quiet with you gone, but day to day life is much the same as when you left. Take care of yourself and keep me informed of your activities there. Give my best to your aunts and uncles and cousins._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

Alejandro had been ecstatic to receive his first letter from Diego. He had worried about his son’s crossing every day of the approximately two months that it took to go from Mexico to Spain. Now, four months had passed since his son had left him. It was the longest he had ever been away from Diego since he was born. He was glad that his son would get a fine education and learn about the world, but he was also concerned his son would fall into some harm so far away. The presence of his wife’s family in Spain gave him little comfort.

Folding the letter and addressing it for mailing he sat and looked at it for a moment. He wished he had more to say, but life was not so exciting in the sleepy town of Los Angeles. Mostly he just missed his son. The hacienda was exceptionally quiet now with only the servants and himself. He had always pictured these days with Isabela at his side, the two of them enjoying each other’s company and worrying about Diego together. Instead he was just alone.

Rising he took the letter and headed to the stables. The stagecoach would be leaving this afternoon and he wanted his letter on it.

* * *

_August 15 th, 1817_

_Dear Papá,_

_I am now installed in an apartment with some other students near the university in Madrid. There are quite a few other boys studying the same course as I am and I think we will all get along quite well. There are many diversions available to students here on campus, and athletics are prioritized as well. I have met a few other boys from California and Mexico, but there are not so many of us. I will write you with more detailed impressions once lessons commence in a couple weeks._

_Like Barcelona, Madrid is quite a large city. There are so many people on the streets every day and the university is something of a microcosm of that big world. There are students from at least fifteen different nationalities studying here making the campus uniquely cosmopolitan. Some of these brave young scholars speak only the most rudimentary Spanish and instead prefer to communicate in French or German, I can only imagine being so bold as to live in a country where I cannot speak the language. At times it is hard enough to be understood here with what the Spaniards call my “New World accent” (though in my opinion it is they who have the accent, whereas I speak properly). Speaking of French_ _and German my course of study will include a thorough knowledge of both languages and I hope to improve my skills in them tremendously._

_I hope you are well._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_

Diego knew his father had probably only just gotten the letter he sent in June upon his arrival, but he found himself missing his father. He had enjoyed the summer days he spent in the company of his relatives, his mother’s family were certainly an entertaining bunch. Every day it felt like there was some new scheme or adventure, and his younger cousins believed everything he said.

It was upon moving to Madrid, however, that he had started to miss his father. He felt lonely without his cousins. He had never lived on his own before, and he had never lived outside the small community where he was born and raised. Now he was completely alone.

Taking the letter he rose from his small desk in his spartan apartment. Descending the stairs and exiting to the street he headed to post it. With any luck a letter from his father would arrive soon.

* * *

_September 20 th, 1817_

_Dear Papá,_

_Today is Mamá’s birthday. I’ve been thinking about her all day. It is two years now that she’s been gone from us. I pray for her daily._

Diego paused. Standing, he walked around his small room. He wanted to say so much, he still missed his mother terribly. He ran his hand over his neck trying to think of what to write next. If he were in California the words would come much easier. Here, it seemed there was so much distance. In Los Angeles his mother had been a beloved member of the community, he could mention her to anyone and they would reflect on her fondly. Here she meant nothing to anyone but him.

He looked out the small window in his room. The street was full of people going about their business. People who lived and worked in this neighborhood who he didn’t know and doubted he ever would. They were just so many strangers to him, as he was to them. He sighed heavily.

Sitting down again he took his pen and hastily finished the letter.

_I hope you are well, know that I miss you every day._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_

Taking the letter he pulled on his jacket and headed for the street.

* * *

_October 23 rd, 1817_

_My dear son,_

_I hope you are well settled into Madrid. I received your letter of August fifteenth and am glad to hear that you have found some companions with whom you can be friendly. I am also pleased that your course of study will require both French and German. I know that your mother attempted to instruct you in French and I know she would have wanted you to learn even more than she could teach you. She would be so proud of you right now, it was her dream that you would study at university in Spain._

_I hope you are making her proud in your lifestyle as well by attending mass regularly and not making yourself a stranger to confession. She would be very disappointed if you were to grow slack in your moral character. She would want you to enjoy yourself, but also to temper your enjoyments so they do not end up harming you. She would want you to live well and respectably._

_I hope to hear more of your impressions of Spain and the university. I eagerly await your letters._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

Alejandro reread the letter carefully, squinting a little. His eyesight for reading was not so good anymore, but he was loathe to purchase spectacles. He realized that he had spoken of Diego’s mother quite a lot, writing _“She would want”_ several times. He supposed he really should have written _“I want”_ instead.

Folding the letter he sealed it. He imagined his son was spending every day among friends, going to taverns and sporting events. Frequenting parks and clubs and the like. Diego was easygoing and friendly, he was sure to be one of the most popular boys in his class.

Quickly addressing the letter Alejandro stood and walked around the _sala_ as he waited for the ink to dry. Each passing day made the place feel bigger and emptier. Taking up his letter and his hat he decided he would go into town, it was certainly more pleasant to pass the time there than to rattle around deathly quiet hacienda.

* * *

_October 31 st, 1817_

_Dear Papá,_

_I have received your letter of August tenth and will pass on your greetings to all the family. I write to them often and they will be glad to hear of you. I am glad to hear of you too. Yes, all of my lectures have been underway for some time now. We have just finished mid term examinations and I am even now waiting for the results. I expect to place well, but I doubt I will be the top. There are many here far more clever than I who have had the most rigorous schooling their entire lives. If I can maintain a place decently near the top that will be enough for me._

_I miss California. I hope that_ _the_ _cattle business is going well. As I look through my diary each day I try to imagine what must be happening in_ _the_ _pueblo. You must include more details about home in your letters. Tell me everything. I dream about Los Angeles often. I can see the hills around our hacienda in my mind’s eye even as I write this. Spain does not have hills half as pleasing as those near home. I do not know how I will make it through four years without my beloved hills and wild country._

_I hope you are taking good care of yourself._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego._

Diego had just finished preparing the letter for the post when the door to his room flung open.

“There you are, Diego, come join us!”

Diego smiled, momentarily forgetting the gnawing misery of homesickness. “Where am I to join you, Miguel?”

“On the dueling grounds, of course. Two of the upperclassmen will be squaring off in a few minutes, we must not miss it.” Miguel came into the room, hustling Diego to make himself presentable.

Diego quickly donned his jacket and found a tie and the two boys hurried to observe the appointed duel.

* * *

_November 27 th, 1817_

_My dear son,_

_I received your note of September twentieth._

Alejandro put his pen back into the inkwell. Diego’s letter had been so brief, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say in response. He could tell his son was experiencing some sorrow, but he didn’t know how to comfort him. Taking up the pen he added another line.

_I hope you can find some happiness in the country your mother loved._

Once again he put the quill into the well. He had no words to console Diego, certainly not ones that could do so with them so many miles apart. It had been a hard loss for him when his own mother had passed, Diego was so much younger than he had been. Diego had also been far closer to his mother than Alejandro had been to his own. He couldn’t fathom exactly what his son was feeling.

Picking up his pen again he wrote:

_Try to be strong. I miss you and count the days till your return._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

Alejandro had no better way to say it. He worried that Diego might be sad or lonely in Madrid. Alejandro had no way to help him except to say _“be strong.”_ He worried that it wouldn’t be enough. Finishing the letter he found one of the servants and sent them to town to post it. He hoped another letter from Diego would come very soon showing that he was in much improved spirits.

* * *

_February 8 th, 1818_

_Dear Papá,_

_I hope this reaches you before your birthday but I’m afraid it might be a bit late. I wish you happiness on your birthday and I cannot wait until I can celebrate with you in person._

_The semester has begun well and I have become very involved in the athletics here at the university. They provide a comfortable distraction during those times when I am not studying. The fencing teams here are quite active as well, and many of the fellows in my class are on it._

Diego hesitated, not sure if he should tell his father that he had joined the fencing team as well. Even as a first year student he was progressing in the sport quite quickly. He knew his father would be proud of his accomplishments athletically as well as scholastically, but he was sure his father would also worry if he told him he had taken up fencing. It was always the students on the fencing team that found themselves in duels every week. So many young men with lethal skills were bound to come to trouble.

Deciding against telling him just yet he wrote:

_Tell me about home. I miss it very much. I feel as though I am forgetting how everything looks. Is the pueblo still the same? What about the alcalde? Is Padre Felipe in good health? What about my friends, do you have any news of them? I try to write them but the letters come so infrequently._

“Diego de la Vega!” a harsh voice called from the doorway of his room.

Diego turned in his chair to see Ramón Castillo leaning against the door frame. “Ramón!” Diego said with a smile, “What brings you here?”

“I came to fetch you, the fencing team is giving an exhibition at the palace and we are to practice every waking hour until then.” Ramón ran his palm over the hilt of his sword. “I was told just now so I came to let you know.”

“I am all but finished here, I will be with you presently.” Turning back to the letter he wrote:

_I must go quickly now. I extend my love to you on your birthday. Write me soon._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_

Sealing and addressing the letter Diego retrieved his sword and he and Ramón left his quarters. “When is this exhibition at the palace?” Diego asked as he buckled on his sword.

“In three weeks, you must practice extra so that you don’t embarrass the university with your rustic style.”

“I think my ‘rusitc style’ will be the least of the universities worries if you are to be at the exhibition.”

Ramón laughed and slapped Diego on the back. “Then we must both endeavor to do the university proud.”

* * *

_April 13 th, 1818_

_My dear son,_

_Thank you for the birthday wishes, I missed you very much. I hope you are well and your studies are progressing nicely._

_I am glad you have found some comrades among the other boys at the university and I am glad you are not idle in your free time. The athletics will be good for you. I encourage you to take up fencing if you have the inclination. It is a worthy skill for a man._

Alejandro stopped to picture his son fencing. He was sure his tall, graceful son would cut a dashing figure on the dueling grounds. He then had an image of his son being injured or killed on said grounds because he had been provoked into a pointless fight.

_If you do take up fencing I want you to avoid duels at all costs. Most of the time they are pointless and only end up causing harm rather than satisfying honor._

Looking at what he just wrote, Alejandro wrinkled his nose, he didn’t mean that either.

_But do not be afraid to defend yourself either. You are from a proud line and should not be shy about defending it. Be bold and brave, but do not provoke others._

Alejandro was satisfied with that addition. He hoped Diego would have enough sense to not provoke pointless disputes but be bold enough to defend his honor.

_Everyone in the pueblo is well. It is very quiet here, just as it was before you left. All are in good health and there are no problems to speak of. The del Toro family has decided to move to Mexico City so they have sold their hacienda and all their lands. Don Cornelio and myself have each bought half of their rancho and our lands are increased by many acres. The hacienda now stands empty on Don Cornelio’s portion, but he has indicated that he will put it to some use._

Alejandro looked at the paragraph. He couldn’t imagine that Diego would be the slightest bit interested in such boring news.

_I hope to hear from you again soon. Tell me all that has happened._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

Sealing the letter Alejandro set it with others that he intended to post later that morning. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was close to five o’clock in the morning and normally he would still be asleep, but he had woken in the night and had gotten to thinking about Diego and his mind would not let him rest. It had been a year since Diego left and he felt the absence acutely.

“Is everything alright, _Patrón?”_

Alejandro turned to see his servant Juan standing at the door to the _sala_.

 _“Sí,_ Juan, I just could not sleep so I came to finish some letters.”

Juan nodded. “If you need anything I am nearby.”

 _“Gracias,”_ said Alejandro. He appreciated that Juan was attentive and tried to look out for him, even more so since Diego had left. While Juan was a good servant he was hardly a replacement for family. He felt his son’s absence more sharply with each passing day. He looked at the stack of letters on his desk and wondered what his son was doing at this very moment. Three more years could not pass soon enough.


	2. YEAR 2, 1818-1819

_May 9 th, 1818_

_My dear son,_

_I hope this letter reaches you before your birthday on July twenty-fifth. I can hardly believe that eighteen years have passed since your birth. Your mother would be so proud of you. I wish you good health and happiness._

Alejandro paused to imagine how Diego must look now. He might have grown a little, perhaps he had filled out a bit. He hoped Diego was staying active, but he couldn’t imagine that he wasn’t. Diego had been active since the minute he was born. And once his son started walking – oh Lord – Alejandro hadn’t been able to keep up with him since that day.

_Tell me how the end of semester goes. I hope that you place well in the class rankings._

Diego had sent him a copy of his marks for both mid term and final examinations from the previous semester and Alejandro had been pleased with his performance, he had placed particularly well in philosophy. He hoped that Diego would place well again in all his subjects.

_Will you spend the summer in Madrid? Or will you visit your relatives in Barcelona? I have had a letter from your Tía Ignacia. She writes that she very much enjoyed your company last summer and would very much like for you to stay with her again._

He hoped that Diego would go spend the summer with his wife’s family. That way he would not be alone without even classmates to distract him. He also wanted Diego to have a close bond with Isabela’s relatives, she would have wanted that very much.

_Whatever you decide be sure to write me often. I am interested in your deeds no matter how small. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

Sealing and addressing the letter Alejandro tucked it into his jacket pocket. He would head into town in the evening to post it as the stage wasn’t due for some hours. All day long he kept the letter close to his heart and thought of Diego constantly. He wished he could see his son. Already a year had passed, but he felt as though he had aged ten years in that time.

* * *

_June 20 th, 1818_

_Dear Papá,_

_I am sorry for not writing you in some time. I have only now been free of examinations for a little while. After I finished exams I traveled to Barcelona and am once again with Tía and Tío and the cousins. They send their love. Today is the first day I’ve had an opportunity to write, the summer holidays have already been filled with excitement._

Diego smiled as he recalled the events of the previous week.

_I had just arrived in Barcelona and came at once to Tía Ignacia. Tío Estevan was there when I arrived and let me tell you that a man doesn’t exist who knows how to make excitement out of nowhere like Tío Estevan. We promptly took Tío Estevan’s boat and went out on the sea. Tío Estevan and I were accompanied by a “friend” of his, a lady whose name I will not mention here. We were not on the boat even fifteen minutes when the unfortunate vessel began to sink! I suppose it is best that it began to sink sooner rather than later because once it began taking on water it went quickly. Even still, the beach was a fair distance and there was no hope but to swim for it. It is my recollection that we were less than two hundred yards offshore, but uncle swears it was five hundred. It is a good thing I am a strong swimmer and that the water was quite calm because I ended up helping the lady, who could not swim at all, while Tío Estevan did the most rudimentary doggy paddle all the way back. I’m afraid the lady was most upset by the entire ordeal and gave uncle the most ruthless scolding I have ever heard._

Diego leaned back in his chair and laughed softly to himself. His uncle certainly had a way of getting himself into trouble. He leaned forward to finish the narrative but stopped, hearing a noise at the door. He was sure it was one of his cousins. Rising as quietly as possible he crept to the door, attempting to make no sound as he crossed the room.

The sound of a small person reaching for the latch clued him in. He grinned and pulled the door open quite suddenly and said, “Boo!”

His two and a half year old cousin, Jacinta, stumbled backward and squealed with delight. This was a new game they had started playing and she loved it every time.

“Dieguito!” she said throwing her arms into the air to show that she wanted picked up.

Diego swept her into his arms and kissed her nose. “What do you want, _mi princesa?”_

Jacinta leaned forward, kissing Diego’s nose in turn. “Come play with us, Dieguito.”

“In a moment, I am writing a letter to my _papá_ now.”

Jacinta wrapped her arms around Diego’s neck. “Two minutes,” she said in imitation of how her mother told her to wait for something when she was interrupting.

Diego laughed and carried her back to the desk with him. Shifting her to sit on his left knee his picked up his pen again, rereading his letter to remember where he had stopped.

_As you can imagine, the lady is no longer speaking to Tío Estevan. He is utterly heartbroken and swears that he was born under an unlucky star to be so ill-fated in love._

“Dieguito,” Jacinta whined leaning her head against Diego and looking up at him. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright.” Diego laughed. “Just let me write my name.”

_Now, I am afraid I must leave this letter because Jacinta is insisting that I come play with her. I hope you are well, tell me all that is happening in the pueblo._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_

_P.S. As for my class placement as a result of my exams I am pleased to report that I placed in the top twenty percent._

Rising, Diego hoisted Jacinta up on his shoulder much to her delight. “Let’s go, _mi princesa.”_

* * *

_September 7 th, 1818_

_My dear son,_

_I have received your letter of June twentieth and must say that it filled me with no small amount of anxiety. You should use caution in your dealings with your mother’s brother, he is always finding himself in some trouble or another._

Alejandro shook his head silently. The idea of his son drowning because of Estevan’s carelessness gave him chills. And near drowning was certainly not the worst situation Estevan might drag Diego into. He could imagine thousands of situations, each more terrifying than the last, where his son would come to some harm because of Estevan’s disregard and Diego’s love of adventure.

_Do not trust him overly, he has a penchant for mischief and I do not want you involved in his misdeeds._

What was worse was that, Estevan was charismatic and could convince anyone to do just about anything.

_Take care of yourself and keep your wits about you._

Alejandro sighed. There was little else he could do to protect his son from so far away.

_I am pleased to learn of your class placement but I expect you will endeavor to work harder and place better this year. Do not let yourself be distracted from your studies._

Alejandro put his pen into the inkwell and rubbed his eyes. He was beginning to think he would need to buy those spectacles after all. It was getting hard to read Diego’s letters because of his son’s fine handwriting. His own hand, he noticed, was rather bolder than it used to be. Diego would return from Spain a man grown, and would find his father a wizened shell.

Irritated, Alejandro stood from the desk and walked around the _sala_. The silence was oppressive. He had begun spending more time in town and visiting the other dons because of the omnipresent silence that pervaded his home. He felt like a fossil in a museum.

Sitting down once more he took up the quill again.

_I hope you are well. I miss you, write to me soon._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

There was so much more that he wanted to say, but it was difficult to find the right words. He left the letter on the desk throughout the day in case some spark of inspiration came to him, but by evening time there was nothing. A bit disgruntled he folded the letter and sealed it for mailing. One of these days he would know just what to say to Diego, even if it was not today.

* * *

_September 7 th, 1818_

_My dear papá,_

_I received your letter from May ninth, thank you for the birthday wishes. It was spent most enjoyably in the company of my relatives. Marta and Jacinta even made me a crown of flowers which I wore in a most distinguished fashion the entire day._

Diego reread his father’s letter. There wasn’t much else to respond to. He wished his father would be more diligent about including news from the pueblo. He felt as though he was completely cut off from his life in California. A letter from home was almost an elixir of life for him, he was certain Spain would grind him to dust without such refreshment. Or perhaps he was just in a dour mood that day. It seemed as though nothing had gone right for him since the beginning of semester.

_I implore you to give me some word of home. How goes the work at the mission? Are the vineyards growing well? What about the fruit and cattle? How are my friends and neighbors? Do not be so spartan in your replies!_

Perhaps he should not be so demanding, but he had looked through all his father’s letters and found only the most meager scraps of information. He was sure he wouldn’t survive unless he had some more news of his beloved home. Something to take his mind off the dismal start he had to the semester – academically and athletically.

“Diego,” Ramón Castillo’s hushed whisper sounded just over his shoulder.

Diego started at the unexpected intrusion into his thoughts. _“_ _Sí,”_ he said turning to see his friend, a bit cross.

“‘My dear _p_ _apá,_ _’_ Diego, don’t tell me you still address your father as _p_ _apá.”_ Ramón’s voice carried all the condescension of an older brother.

“I didn’t,” Diego pointed out, covering the letter with his hand. “Do you need something?”

“Diego, Diego, I just came to the library to meet another friend of mine. I had no idea you would be here.” Ramón clapped him on the shoulder. “I should have expected it though. It is all clear to me now. You spend your time in the library studying and writing letters instead of in the fencing _salle_ practicing your footwork.”

Ramón’s voice was easy and casual and it rankled Diego deeply. “It seems you have forgotten that I placed second in the rankings among the second year students. I do not think my studying has been a detriment to my footwork.”

“But it has, Diego, my friend,” said Ramón, “if you had been drilling instead of writing your _p_ _apá_ you might have actually placed first. Instead, it seems you are doomed to a life of sloppy seconds in my shadow.”

“Isn’t your friend waiting for you?” Diego was quite done with this conversation. He did not need to be reminded that Ramón had placed higher than him among the second year students. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget it even if he wanted to.

Ramón laughed. “It seems that I tire you so easily these days. Very well. I will see you at the fencing _salle_ tonight. _Con permiso._ ”

Diego nodded, as cordial as he could be and Ramón finally left him to find the student he was meeting.

Diego turned back to his letter, but his thoughts were of Ramón. He had been bested by him during their first tournament, but it was just a twist of luck that Ramón had won. Though, if he said any of this people would paint him as a sore loser, so he had to keep such thoughts to himself. He knew he had the skill to win the next tournament and he fully intended to do so.

 _P_ _apá,_ _this semester seems to have taken a very rough start, I hope that it will improve some over the coming weeks. I have fallen short of some personal goals and it seems as though I am playing catch-up already. I know you and Mam_ _á_ _tried to bring me up as a son of Spain,_ _but there are times when I feel as though I am not a Spaniard but instead some sort of_ _extraterrestrial from the moon._

And at times he did feel that way. Sometimes it was the remarks on his “accent” or his style of clothes. Other times it was just not having a common frame of reference with the other young men. Most of them had lived in Madrid their entire lives, they had private schools and tutors to prepare them for university. More than a few moved in the same social circles and knew each other before they even started on the first day. Diego felt like a fish out of water. Or maybe more like a fish out of his depth in a much larger pond than he was ready for. Sighing, Diego looked at the last sentence and decided to cross it out. There was no need to send his father a letter filled with his fleeting frustrations. He could cope with those on his own.

_I hope you are well, I send my love,_

_Diego_

Laying the letter aside to dry Diego reached for his books. Even if he wasn’t a better fencer than Ramón, he was smarter than him, so there was that.

* * *

_November 30 th, 1818_

_My dear son,_

_I hope you find yourself in good health. I am writing in response to your letter of September seventh._

Alejandro wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Diego’s letter. There was a plea for news from home followed by a complaint about the difficulty of the semester. Then there was the line Diego had scratched out for some reason followed by hasty parting words.

_I know you are a hard worker, I am certain you will be able to recover by the end of semester. Do not despair, instead apply yourself diligently._

Of course, by the time Diego got this letter he would already be attending lectures next semester. Sometimes it was exhausting thinking about his communication with Diego. Answering a letter that just arrived was like trying to speak into the past, and writing a letter about current events was like trying to speak into the future.

_As for news of the pueblo, I am afraid there is not much. However, I will tell you what little there is. The harvest for all our native crops has gone well, there has been enough rain for everything to grow most excellently. The cattle herds are doing fine, as are the horses. I am going to hire Benito on as head vaquero in the spring. I believe he will do well in the role. The hacienda and the pueblo are exactly as you left it and I am certain they will remain that way until you return._

Alejandro wracked his brain for anything even the least bit interesting that he might write about. He wished, for only the ten thousandth time, that Isabela were here. She would have known what to write, what questions to ask. He tried to imagine what she might have written their son.

_Have you been introduced at court yet? Doing so could go a long way to helping you along in life. Be sure to dress appropriately. Charro suits are fine for the lifestyle in California but hardly decent for court._

Alejandro hoped that Diego’s relatives in Spain would help him be properly prepared for an introduction at court. He was worried that Diego would be ill-prepared for socializing at court. He had never been to court himself but he had heard more than enough stories. It was a whole different world out there, one full of intrigue and drama.

_If you do attend court keep yourself out of trouble, don’t let yourself be drawn into gossip and rumors. Do not go looking for trouble._

That was the best advice Alejandro could offer. Picking up Diego’s letter again he scanned through the lines, his eyes coming to rest on the ones that were scratched out. What did Diego want to say but then thought better of?

Standing, he took Diego’s letter and went to the window to look at it in brighter light. He squinted, trying to bring the words into better focus. The improved lighting brought the words into sharp relief. Through the scratched out line he could make out a few of the words, “ _I am not a Spaniard but instead some sort of_ _extraterrestrial from the moon.”_ The line was perplexing. Sometimes he really didn’t understand what went on in Diego’s head.

Deciding to sign and seal his letter later, he folded Diego’s most recent missive and tucked it into his breast pocket. There were other things to attend to today, but he wanted to keep Diego close all the same.

* * *

_December 12 th, 1818_

_My dear father,_

_Thank you for your letter of September seventh. I will take your words about Tío Estevan into advisement._

Diego twirled his pen between his fingers, a tad aggravated. He really hadn’t expected a long distance lecture from his father about his uncle’s shortcomings when he had written the story about the boat. He just thought the anecdote was amusing. He had forgotten how humorless his father could be at times.

_I am almost done with the semester and I my marks have improved since the beginning of term. I am confident that I will finish well among the second year students._

Diego wasn’t sure how confident he really was. He was certain to place better than Ramón Castillo though, and that was all that mattered. During the academic term he and Ramón had gone back and forth in the rankings among the second year fencers. Each had taken the first position four times now, with the other always coming in second. The competition was invigorating, but Ramón always managed to get under his skin. They would be squaring off for the Royal Competitive Trophy soon.

_I know you will receive this letter long after Christmas, but I will extend you my good wishes during the holiday all the same. The city is decorated most beautifully, it is probably my favorite time of the year here. Tío Estevan has come to stay in Madrid for a time and he will be accompanying me to a court gala this evening. I dare say that he is determined to find a well positioned wife at last. Perhaps he does not have such a bad idea._

Diego lifted his pen, second guessing if should have mentioned Uncle Estevan at all after his father’s reaction from the last time. He smiled to himself a little, at least his father would have a little something to worry about.

_I hope you are well and will enjoy the Christmas holidays in Los Angeles. I miss the way we observe the holiday at home, I cannot wait until I can celebrate with you again._

_Feliz Navidad from your loving son,_

_Diego_

Rising from his desk, Diego left the letter to dry as he began to dress for appearing at court. He wasn’t going to post the letter until tomorrow anyway and he wanted to look his best tonight just in case a certain _señorita_ happened to be at the gala as well.

~

_P.S. Father, it is nearly four o’clock in the morning and I have only just returned home. The night was a most excellent one. I recommend you come some time. The music was superb. I danced all night. The only problem was that on my way home I had my watch stolen by a pickpocket. It was the one you gave me with my name engraved in it. I am going to bed now._

Tossing down his pen Diego rubbed his eyes, feeling dizzy. He was drunk from tiredness – and wine. Loosening his tie he stumbled into his bed fully clothed.

* * *

_March 10 th, 1819_

_My dear son,_

_Your letter came to me a month delayed so I am afraid this letter is somewhat tardy. I hope you have achieved high marks in all areas of study. I know the spring semester is now well underway and by the time you receive this it will be the end of your second year of studies. Please write me when you know your class ranking for the year._

_I am sorry for the loss of your watch. I am sure you have replaced it by now, you will have the pick of fine watches to choose from in Madrid._

Alejandro leaned back in his chair and adjusted his spectacles. The library was quiet at this late hour. The clocked chimed a quarter to midnight. Perhaps it would have been more honest to write the date as the eleventh instead of tenth.

_Do not become too involved in your uncle’s affairs._

Alejandro snorted to himself. Affairs was certainly the right word for Estevan’s romances.

_Only remember that your uncle’s ideas are rarely good or worth imitating._

He didn’t want to imagine his teenage son getting involved in a scandalous love affair with the wrong woman because he had fallen under Estevan’s tutelage. He wondered if Diego had been spending much time courting in Madrid. He had sent his son to Spain at sixteen years of age, but that was more than two years ago. He would be nineteen in the summer and now might reasonably be looking for a wife. Perhaps Diego would return from Spain both educated and married.

_Still, I hope you can make some good connections among the people at court, it may serve you well in the future._

_The pueblo had word just yesterday that we will have a new comandante in the garrison. He is to arrive from Mexico City later this week. I hope I don’t bore you, this is the most exciting news we have had this year. We are experiencing good weather now, spring is in full bloom. I wish you were here to see it, your beloved hills are most magnificent._

Did Diego even care about his hills anymore? His requests for information about the pueblo were fewer of late. His son had certainly changed in the last two years, what was he like now?

_Tell me about yourself, Diego. I long to hear your thoughts. I remember when we would spend our evenings playing chess in the sala, now our chessboard stands dusty with disuse. I am eager to resume our games upon your return._

_I hope you are in good health and being attentive to your studies._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

* * *

_May 25 th, 1819_

_My dear father,_

_I, too, miss our chess matches. I play with some of the fellows here but don’t enjoy it half as much as when we would play. You do not need to worry about my following in the footsteps of Tío Estevan, so rest easy about that. He is far too busy wooing a wealthy countess these days to spend any time corrupting me._

_As for news of me, I did manage to recover the engraved pocket watch that was stolen. I am most pleased to have it back._

Diego turned in his chair. Bernardo sat on the bed mending buttons for Diego. Five months ago he had been on his way home from the winter gala and had stopped on a street corner to catch a breath of air and calm his dizzy head. He must have made an easy mark, leaning against the building for support. Bernardo had stumbled into him as one who is drunk then stepped away with his hands out, begging. Diego remembered giving him a few coins and going on his way, not realizing until he had arrived at his apartment that he no longer had his watch.

The next day he had retraced his steps through the city. Near the place he had been robbed he had come around a corner very quickly and found himself face to face with Bernardo for the second time in as many days. Bernardo tried to run, but Diego was far quicker. He had demanded his watch back but had found Bernardo unable to speak. Well, speak with his mouth at least, the man had an impressive and easily understood vocabulary of hand gestures – if one had the patience to let him speak at his own speed. Diego’s curiosity had been piqued and even after getting back his watch he had spent some time talking to the man. At the end of that time he realized that Bernardo had been forced to a life of begging and petty crime because he could not speak.

While he was not generally one for snap decisions, he had made one on the spot there. He wanted to give this man a chance, to help him in some way. And to that end-

_I have decided to take on a manservant, not because of I am needful of one as much as it is extremely fashionable to have one and to be without is almost a blot on the reputation of a young man at the university. Especially one that frequents himself at court._

His father wouldn’t understand him hiring a former thief to be his manservant. Diego was honestly surprised he had done it. At the beginning he had been convinced that it was only a matter of time until Bernardo stole all his valuables and headed for the streets again. He had not. Five months later Bernardo was still here and seemed to be more than happy with his steady employment. Not only was he a good manservant, but he was a sensible man who Diego enjoyed the company of.

_I hope you do not think me too frivolous. Believe me, it is money well spent._

_My studies are going well, I anticipate a better class rank than last year. I will write you as soon as the marks are given. I have found myself to be most competitive of late and I have applied all my energies to my books and to my sports. I have improved dramatically since the beginning of last term._

Bernardo had finished with the buttons and began polishing Diego’s jewellery. When he came to Diego’s fencing medal he shined it with extra care, placing it prominently on the mantle to dazzle in the sunlight.

While Diego was proud of his accomplishment (the medal had been won during the tournament for the Royal Competitive Trophy) he was a bit irked that Ramón Castillo had won the cup. The medal was for his third place win, quite an accomplishment for a second year student but not quite the accomplishment that winning the cup was. He now had one goal: win the Royal Competitive Trophy.

_I will write to you again soon._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_


	3. YEAR 3, 1819-1820

_June 10_ _th,_ _1819_

_My dear father,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I have just received my marks for the semester and I find that my class rank has improved since last year. I now stand in the top fifteen percent of my class and am pleased with this placement. Enclosed is a detailed account of my marks for each course._

Diego _was_ pleased with his academic performance for the year, he had worked exceptionally hard during the last year and it had paid off. It was his other area of focus, however, that he wasn’t happy with.

_I have decided to stay in Madrid over the summer, there are some opportunities here that I would like to take advantage of._

He was going to stay and devote himself wholly to fencing. He knew he could beat Ramón and he just needed a little more time in the fencing _salle_ to do it. When he had started two years ago he and Ramón had been more or less friendly with each other, now it seemed their relationship was one of pure rivalry.

Lifting his pen he began to write again. A knock on his room door interrupted him. Bernardo went and opened the door.

“Diego!” said Miguel as he looked past Bernardo, “I thought I’d find you here. I need your help.”

“What is it?” Diego stood and shook his hand as he came in.

Miguel sat on Diego’s bed. “I find myself with an appointment for the field of honor tomorrow and I want you to be my second.”

“Me?” said Diego sitting back in his chair, turning it to face Miguel, “Well of course, but who are you facing?”

“Joaquin Flores from the year above us. He insulted me this morning and he needs taught a lesson.”

“I agree, but are you sure about this?” Miguel wasn’t a fencer, having only the most rudimentary knowledge of the sport.

“To be honest, I’m not completely sure about this, I was hoping you might give me a few pointers before tomorrow.” Miguel fidgeted with the hilt of his sword.

“I don’t know what I can teach you before tomorrow, but I will certainly try.” Diego stood and Bernardo handed him his sword. He motioned to Miguel. “Let’s go to the park nearby, we’re going to need some room.”

~

_Father, it is now very late_ _and I am trying to finish this letter so it can get to you with the upmost haste. As I wrote, I will be staying in Madrid during the summer._ _Tío Estevan is still here, his courtship of the countess continues, so I will not be wanting for family._

Diego mulled over Miguel’s duel on the morrow. He was certain that his friend was about to be seriously injured. If only he could just step in and fight in Miguel’s place _._

Diego looked back at his letter, it was terribly short. Not sure what else to write he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The room to his door opened and the now familiar footsteps of Bernardo came across the floor.

Signing, Bernardo asked about Miguel.

“I’m afraid he’s going to be in some real trouble tomorrow, Joaquin is far and away a better fencer.”

Bernardo indicated his hand and a slashing movement.

“No, Joaquin is generally not satisfied with first blood, especially when he has been challenged. He’ll want some revenge out of Miguel.” Joaquin could be especially cruel at times, Miguel might even be killed.

Bernardo motioned to him and imitated holding a sword.

“You think I should intervene in some way? I tried to teach Miguel a few things, I’m not sure what else I can do.” It was an affair of honor after all.

Bernardo pointed to him and held up two fingers, gesturing to one of them.

“Yes, I am Miguel’s second,” Diego wasn’t sure where this was going.

Bernardo moved his hand to indicate talking.

“You think I should talk to Joaquin, try and make him see reason?”

Bernardo nodded.

Diego pondered the suggestion. Miguel might not speak to him again if he interfered. At the same time, if Miguel died he also wouldn’t be speaking to him again.

Hastily scrawling a farewell and signing his name to the bottom of the letter, Diego rose. “Alright, you’ve convinced me, I will speak to Joaquin and try to work this out in a civilized manner.” Taking his sword belt he raised it to Bernardo. “And I will bring this, just in case Joaquin isn’t feeling so civilized.”

Bernardo grabbed Diego’s hat and gloves and the two men headed for the streets of Madrid.

* * *

_July 22_ _nd,_ _1819_

_My dear son,_

_Once again I give you birthday greetings, though this year I am afraid they will arrive quite late. All the same I wish you happiness and health as you commence your nineteenth year. I fear I will hardly recognize you when you return._

Alejandro tried to imagine Diego as he would be now. Athletic, educated, tall. His son was good looking and probably appeared even more so now. He imagined him smiling, Diego was always smiling. He had a grin that would light up the whole room, and a wicked sense of humor to go with it. Alejandro smiled to himself. He missed that smile. Those eyes that were perpetually twinkling. He sighed. Only two more years.

_In regards to your letter of May twenty-fifth, I am not sure I understand why you need a manservant, but such a decision is up to your discretion. I implore you to make sure that he has good references, a place like Madrid attracts all kinds of unsavory people. I am glad you got your pocket watch back, pickpockets are a perpetual plague in Europe, it seems as though they are to be found on every street corner._

_I am pleased that you are being diligent with your studies and applying yourself well. You will be a great credit to Los Angeles when you return. Competition is good for a man, it drives him to be the most successful version of himself. If it motivates you to high achievements it can only be a good thing. Keep up the good work._

This, of course, was what the best universities could do for a young man. Challenge him and drive him to be his very best. The presence of other young men made the atmosphere one of competition that drove them all to be better and attain more. When he had been in university in Mexico City he had had a similar experience.

_I hope you will spend the summer with your relatives again. They wrote that they missed you, particularly your young cousins. I am pleased that they are so fond of you._

“ _¿Patrón?”_

“ _¿Sí,_ _Benito_?” Alejandro turned from his desk in the _sala,_ looking over the top of his spectacles at the young man standing near the door.

“I am sorry to bother you, _patrón_ , but you said to tell you if there was any news from the pueblo.”

Alejandro removed his spectacles and stood up. “What is it, what has happened?”

“Monastario, he has arrested Señor Gomez and confiscated all his property, the shop and everything.”

“What?” said Alejandro, “On what charge?”

“Withholding taxes and treason.” Benito looked as though he could hardly believe what he was saying.

“This is preposterous! Go saddle my horse, I will go and speak to Monastario about this.”

“ _Sí, patrón.”_ Benito hurried out the door.

Alejandro hastily signed his letter then retrieved his hat and gloves. He didn’t know what Monastario was playing at, but if he thought he could arbitrarily arrest citizens of the pueblo he had another thing coming.

* * *

_October 12 th, 1819_

_My dear father,_

Diego walked around his room trying to get his thoughts together.

_This letter is not in my hand because I recently sustained a slight injury to my right hand and as a consequence cannot write with a pen for some days. A friend of mine is most generously writing in my stead._

Diego ground his teeth, he was afraid the injury would set him back in his fencing. His hand twinged under the bandage he wore. It was the unfortunate result of his most recent duel. Ever since his little altercation with Joaquin at the beginning of summer he had found himself with something of a target on his back. He thrilled at the challenge most of the time, he was quite good and didn’t loose often, but the field of honor was not the same as a tournament bout and he had the injuries to show for it.

Bernardo turned in the desk chair to see why Diego wasn’t continuing with his dictation. Catching his eye, Diego continued:

_Tío Estevan has finally left Madrid, his reputation a little tarnished but no worse for the wear. I expect he will be back before we know it. Currently, he is on his way to Paris to find if he fares any better there._

Diego and Bernardo exchanged a look, both of them breaking into grins. Bernardo had never met Diego’s uncle, but there had been more than enough stories over the previous months.

_Thank you for the birthday wishes, I appreciate them greatly. I passed the day most pleasurably, though I wish you could have been there._

Though, if his father had been there he would have seen his son spending all day in the fencing _salle,_ not partying or socializing.

_This past summer I decided to start wearing a mustache, they are very fashionable among the upperclassmen. I’m very fond of the one I’m now sporting._

Diego stroked his mustache. He liked to think that it made him look older.

_The academic term has started most favorably for me. All of my courses are exceedingly interesting (with the exception of one course in advanced mathematics) and I anticipate strong marks in all areas. My midterm examinations are next week, I will write you with the results._

_I am becoming very fond of Madrid, I am thinking of maybe staying here for a year or two after graduation. What would you think about that?_

Diego had indeed become very fond of Madrid, and a certain lady who happened to live here. Diego halted his dictation and went to the desk to read over what had already been written.

Bernardo proudly showed the letter and pointed to the various flourishes he had incorporated.

Diego laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Beautiful, it’s almost a pity that such pretty writing is going to my father and not a fair _señorita.”_

Bernardo grinned, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I am almost finished, hopefully by the time I want to write again my hand will be healed enough that I can write it myself.” Looking back at the letter he reminded himself of the last few lines and continued:

_It is now autumn in Madrid and the city is beautiful. I hope the autumn and winter season passes well in Los Angeles. I hope you are well and taking care of yourself._

_Your loving son,_

Here, Diego took the quill and signed his name himself, with no small amount of difficulty. Yesterday’s injury made his hand stiff and uncomfortable for writing. He had been assured by the doctor that it would be healed in no time, he hoped that said assessment was accurate.

Bernardo sprinkled sand on the wet ink then carefully folded and addressed it, sealing it with Diego’s seal.

“Thank you for the favor, my friend,” said Diego taking the letter, “I will go post it now, hopefully it will leave for California even today.”

* * *

_December 18 th 1819_

_My dear son,_

_I am responding to your letters of both June tenth and October twelfth, I am sorry I have not written you sooner._

Alejandro had meant to write Diego more often, the days had just slipped past him as he had become increasingly preoccupied with Monastario’s machinations.

_I am pleased with your academic performance and I am proud of you. You have done very well for yourself over there. I hope your injury is now long healed. Do try to be careful when you are going in for sport._

The Diego he had sent to Spain had been adventurous, and even reckless. He didn’t know if that was still the case. All the same he felt it wise to caution his son.

_As for you staying in Madrid after you graduate,_

Here, Alejandro had to stop for a few minutes. He wanted Diego to stay and pursue his dreams, use his education, perhaps even find some advantageous position in the city. Diego was bright, friendly and sensible. He could make quite the life for himself in Spain. He also wanted, now more than ever, his son at his side. Monastario was beginning to wear on him and he felt like he could use some support. Convincing the other dons to stand with him against Monastario’s misdeeds was like pulling teeth.

_I am loath to be without you, of course. I think it would be best if we saved this conversation for a future date. Write me again with your feelings as you enter your final year and I shall deliver to you my thoughts then._

That was, if the mail from Los Angeles wasn’t stopped completely by then. Twice now he heard rumor that all the mail was being searched just in case a stray complaint found its way to the governor.

He looked over Diego’s letter again noticing the passage about the mustache. He tried to imagine his fresh-faced teenager wearing a man’s facial hair. Somehow, he couldn’t quite picture it.

_I want to extend to you my warmest greetings at Christmas. I will miss your presence as I have the past two years. The poinsettias at the mission are in bloom and the churchyard is most spectacular. I know they were always a favorite of yours._

_Please continue to write, I promise to be more prompt in my responses._

_Your loving father,_

_Alejandro_

Alejandro took the letter and was just at the gate when he came face-to-face with Benito coming in.

“Your pardon, _patrón,_ I was just on my way to find you.”

Alejandro sighed, he didn’t even have to guess why Benito was looking for him. “Monastario?” he said simply.

Benito nodded.

“Walk with me to the stables and tell me as we go.”

* * *

_February 29 th, 1820_

_My dear father,_

_Thank you for the Christmas wishes, I hope you passed the holiday season with peace and joy. Tía Ignacia, Tío Benjamín and the cousins came to Madrid to visit me over the winter holidays, I was very glad to have their company. The cousins are getting so big. I can hardly believe that Imelda and Marta are practically women grown. In just three years they have blossomed into fair and gentle Spanish ladies._

He supposed that he had changed a lot in three years as well. Would his father also be changed when he finally made his way back to California?

_I will write again about staying in Madrid as I come into my final year, but in the months since I last wrote you my feelings have not changed at all. I think there are many opportunities for me here, and I am most fond of the city now. I have become accustomed to the Spanish lifestyle and have made many true friends. I think I could settle here for some time and be very happy. Of course, I will obey your wishes on the matter, I just want you to know the depth of my feeling regarding the subject._

Certainly, he missed his father and his home, but Madrid was also his home now. He felt comfortable here, he was close to his mother’s family, he had a circle of friends, some excellent professional prospects, and he did not want for company from the fairer sex. He could see himself getting married and starting a family of his own here, then after some time moving back to California to be with his father and raise his children.

_Autumn term went well for me, but I am afraid I have declined in my academic ranking from the previous term. I am even now in the library in an attempt to make up for this loss._

Part of the problem is that he had spent more time in the fencing _salle_ than in the library during the autumn semester. He had also been known to cut class in order to get in more practice time. Almost every waking minute was spent on fencing, and it was paying off. Already he had established himself as the top fencer at the university among all classes. Even now he was preparing to face down the cream of Spanish fencers at the Royal Competitive Tournament. He couldn’t let his focus slip, unfortunately, that meant his grades _did_ have to slip to keep up his grueling training regime.

_Do not fear for my academic performance, however, I am certain that, with a little effort, I will finish stronger than last year._

Once the Royal Competitive Tournament was over he could throw himself into his studies and boost his grades.

_Tío Estevan writes that he is now entranced by a certain widow in Paris, I believe he is already hearing wedding bells. Coincidentally, she is also the wealthiest widow in the city, but I am sure that has nothing to do with his ardor for her._

Diego smiled at his uncle’s antics, one of these days he would manage to land himself a wealthy wife, but Diego wasn’t so sure this widow was going to work out the way his uncle hoped.

_I am afraid that is all I have to write you at the moment. I hope you are well and I look forward to your letters._

_Your loving son,_

_Diego_

Diego felt a tap on his arm and looked up from his letter. Bernardo had come into the library and was signing that someone had been looking for him. Diego had just risen from his chair when he saw who it was.

“Ramón,” he said, gesturing to the shelves of books that surrounded them, “what brings you here?”

Ramón smirked. “Can a man not freely come to the university library in order to find one of his dear friends?”

“‘Dear friend,’ certainly you don’t mean me.” Diego gestured to himself.

“Certainly I do,” said Ramón, “I am hurt that you do not realize the high esteem in which I hold you.”

Diego gestured for Ramón to sit down. “Well, tell me, what is on your mind?”

As Ramón sat, Diego flipped over his letter to preserve it from prying eyes.

“Tell me, Diego, why does you manservant refuse to talk to me, I find it most off-putting. I saw him outside and asked him if you were in the library and he refused to answer me, only waving at me like I am some dog.”

“He does not speak to you because he cannot speak, it is nothing personal.”

“Oh, so he is a mute.” Ramón’s voice had a certain disdain.

“He cannot speak.” Diego said again. He had a certain distaste for the word mute, especially said in such a tone. “He uses his hands to speak in place of his tongue. If you are patient for a moment you will understand what he says most easily.”

“Diego, you have too soft a heart, you should hire a man who can speak. No one has the time to watch a pantomime show every time they need to understand what someone is saying.”

Diego felt a little rankled. “No one has the time to listen to you deride servants when you came here to say something to me.”

“ _Sí_ , I did,” said Ramón, remembering what he had come to say, “I have had news about our tournament, it is being postponed this year.”

Somehow the Royal Competitive Tournament, which encompassed all of Spain, had become theirs. A private contest between the two of them.

“What do you mean?” Diego leaned forward, if he lost the opportunity to win the tournament he would be most displeased.

“Instead of taking place, as it normally does, early in the spring, it has been moved to the last week of May.”

“Wonderful,” Diego snorted. The last week of May were end of term examinations and his courses this semester were not easy ones. “Where did you hear this?” He had to be sure that Ramón wasn’t trying to play some trick on him.

“There is a notice in the fencing _salle_ and I was told by our instructor himself.” Ramón leaned back in his chair. “Do not worry, Diego, I am not trying to trick you, I want you at that tournament more than anything. We will see once and for all which of us is truly the superior swordsman.”

Ramón was still bitter over Diego’s unprecedented climb in ranking among the university’s fencers.

“Oh, we will find out, that is most certain.” Diego leaned back as well. He supposed if he had to sacrifice his marks for one year just to show Ramón a thing or two it would be worth it in the end. “I will be there, you can count on that.”

* * *

Alejandro stood in the plaza. The crowd around him was deathly silent as the duelists beat away at each other. Young Don Héctor de la Fuente was doing his best to fend off his attacker, but Monastario was clearly the better swordsman. Steel rang against steel, echoing through the silent square. Sweat beaded on Alejandro’s brow as he stood baking in the hot sun on the first day of spring. He was too engrossed in the battle to bother dabbing it away.

Monastario lunged forward sending Héctor’s sword flying across the plaza. Bringing up his blade Monastario ran him through. Héctor fell to the ground and an audible gasp was heard from the attending crowd.

“Does anyone else care to insult my honor?” Monastario challenged the community at large.

No sound was heard from the gathered people.

“Very well,” said Monastario as he bent and wiped his blade on Héctor’s body, “clear the plaza, all of you!”

The people dispersed. Héctor’s father and Doctor Avila ran to the boy to see if anything could be done, but Monastario’s blade had hit its mark.

Alejandro wove his way through the throng to the _alcalde. “Señor alcalde,”_ Alejandro said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him aside, “you must do something about this! Monastario murdered a member of our community in cold blood!”

“I do not know what I can do, Don Alejandro, it was an affair of honor and Monastario was quite within his rights to use lethal force.”

“Are you trying to defend this man? You know as well as I do that to duel for anything other than first blood is simply not done anymore. We are not in the dark ages any longer. He killed young Héctor to send a message of dominance. You are our representative! You must show this tyrant that his hostility will not be met with compliance.”

“Would you have me challenge the man to a duel, Alejandro?” said the aged man, “I have no authority over him. Besides, even if I did charge him with murder that lawyer of his would make it all go away, there is really nothing we can do.”

Alejandro snagged Don Cornelio who was passing nearby. “You must agree with me, we must put an end to this. Monastario is getting out of hand! We must stand together and face him. If we all joined forces we could easily run him out of the pueblo.”

Don Cornelio put up a finger to quiet him. “Keep your voice down, my friend, unless you wish to find yourself in the same place as young Héctor.”

“Are you afraid of him too?” Alejandro was aghast, where were the bold caballeros of his youth? “If he is not stopped he will have us all under his thumb and rule us with an iron fist. Our rights mean nothing to this man.”

“Alejandro, I have to think of my family. I cannot be taking risks with military dictators. If we are quiet we will find our lives essentially unchanged.” Don Cornelio’s voice was little above a whisper.

“Quiet!” Alejandro had never been angrier. “I never thought I’d see the day when the noble blood of our ancestors could be so easily cowed by a single military bully. Your father would be so ashamed of you, as am I!”

“What are you going to do, Alejandro? You can do nothing alone.”

Don Cornelio had a point. He was alone, and it seemed that he could not convince anyone in the pueblo to join him in the fight against Monastario. All of them would be scared now, afraid they would be drawn into a duel and essentially executed if they stood against him, as Héctor had been. It was no accident that the duel had happened so publicly. Monastario knew exactly what he was doing. All the dons and their sons would now cower before him and refuse to defy him even in the smallest way.

Heart sinking he looked between the two men, defeat was in their eyes. There was nothing he could say to change their minds. If Héctor’s death could not rouse some outrage, nothing would. He bade them goodbye and went to his horse. He could do nothing alone, if only he had the help of one person, one man brave enough to face down a tyrant like Monastario. His thoughts drifted to Diego.

Upon returning home he took a piece of paper and wrote only two sentences. He dared not be more explicit or else the letter would never make it out of Los Angeles. He prayed that Diego would not hesitate, he needed him now more than ever.

* * *

Diego was elated. Even now, many hours later he couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier. He couldn’t imagine anything in his life would ever make him this happy again. Triumph was sweet to savor. He, Miguel, and several of his other friends raced up the stairs to his apartment making more noise than was appropriate in the middle of the night. Their voices were loud and filled with excitement.

“Diego!” said Miguel, “I never thought this day would come, you have shown yourself to be the best in all Spain!”

There was a cheer from the other fellows and Diego laughed. The best in all Spain, he liked the sound of that very much. “I suppose I am, and I dedicate my accomplishment to you, my faithful friends!”

The group came to Diego’s door which he unlocked with some trouble. They had only just come from the tavern where they had been celebrating all evening. The door opened and the raucous group spilled in, all of them quite jovial.

“Bernardo!” Diego called. The older man had been napping in Diego’s chair, apparently waiting for him to return home. “Guess what, my friend!”

Bernardo blinked the sleep from his eyes, shrugging to indicate he didn’t know what.

“I have, this very day, become the best fencer in all of Spain!” Diego held up the trophy. The golden cup glittered in the candlelight.

“Tell us again, Diego, what did the king say when he presented the trophy to you?” said one of the party.

“He said,” said Diego proudly, “he had never seen such excellent swordsmanship in all his life and that I stood in a class of my own.”

This comment produced back slapping and drunken cheers.

“Diego,” said Miguel, “you have not only show yourself to be the best fencer in all of Spain, you have shown that New Spain will one day eclipse us. The old world is humbled and exceedingly proud.”

Diego blushed a little at the effusive compliments. Bernardo came and shook Diego’s hand, his way of expressing congratulations. Diego beamed. Nothing could ruin his mood.

“It is only too bad that your father could not be here to witness your victory,” said another of his friends.

“I must write to my father immediately,” Diego said at once, handing his trophy to Bernardo. “I have never felt more certain that he would be proud of me than I am at this moment. Bernardo, get the fellows some wine while I send news of my triumph to my beloved father.” Sitting himself in his desk chair he reached for a clean piece of paper.

_May 30 th, 1820_

Bernardo stopped in the middle of serving wine to Diego’s friends and tapped his head as he remembered something. Placing Diego’s trophy carefully on the desk he produced a letter from his breast pocket and handed it to Diego.

Diego took the letter and saw it was from his father. “Lads,” he said, “it seems my father wanted to wish me luck, I have a letter from him even here.”

“Read it to us!” said one of them, “How goes it in Los Angeles these days?”

Diego grinned. “Nothing exciting happens in California, he only ever writes of good weather, happy cattle and fat grapes.”

“A toast to the grapes,” said Miguel.

“Here, here,” chorused the other.

“What shall it be this time,” said Miguel. “Grapes or cattle.”

“Let us find out then, eh?” said Diego as he broke the seal and read:

_March 20 th, 1820_

_My dear son,_

_It is with a heavy heart that I ask you to give up your studies and come home. Certain matters have arisen that I can no longer face alone._

_Alejandro_

The jovial mood died instantly. Miguel even came to read the letter over Diego’s shoulder to ensure that he’d heard it properly. “Diego,” he said, unsure what else to say.

Diego read the letter a second time, fear for his father sobering him instantly.

“Diego,” said Miguel again, “what are you going to do?”

Diego combed his fingers through his hair, looking from the letter to catch Miguel’s eye. “What can I do? I have to go home.”


End file.
